A Gift
by Celeste K. Raven
Summary: Rumpelsiltskin gave his son many expensive gifts, but the best one wasn't a gift in the sense that it was planned...


It was never a secret that Baelfire disapproved of his father's newfound magical abilities. One month after ''the incident'' Rumplestiltskin had been asked a question over supper;

''Is it possible for me to love my papa and hate the Dark One?''

To such a question, even Rumplestiltskin had no response.

Another month pass, and then another, yet and one more. All of the sudden Baelfire's moods became like a storm cloud; pouring searing droplets of frustration and resentment at random. Rumplestiltskin's heart ached to see his Bae, his usually good natured boy, so distraught. Yet, even half blind with love, he knew what Baelfire was doing.

_Smart boy, he plays this game well,_ he thought, but he could not grant son what he desired most.

This of course, did not stop him from giving the child what he desired second, third and twenty-ninth most. Baelfire never requested anything when directly asked, but Rumplestiltskin knew his son, and he knew how to be observant. Whenever Baelfire eyed something too long, it ended up wrapped in brown parchment on his bed by the end of the month.

Thick soled boots, warm cloaks, enchanted armor, play swords, _real_ swords… all these things and more Rumplestiltskin gave to his son. Baelfire, ever respectful to his father no matter how snappish he was to everyone else, always smiled and one insincere ''thank you'' later the item would be placed in the back of his closet, sometimes never to be seen again. Rumplestiltskin even had the suspension that his boy was given some of the gifts away to the few awestruck children who weren't too afraid of him.

There was one present, however, that Baelfire had loved with all his heart. It was not rare or expensive or beautiful. It was not meant to be a gift at all.

Anorra held a half empty bowl out to Baelfire but the dark-haired boy shook his head.

''No more,'' he said, leaving the mute maid and the rest of his porridge at the table. He wrapped his cloak tightly around his body, for a soft drizzle had begun in the early morning and dark clouds promised more to come.

He opened the door to be greeted by a sudden sting at his ankle. He stumbled backward a couple steps. The space between Baelfire and the door was more than wide enough to allow his attacker into the small cottage.

The little black dog ran several laps around the kitchen table, yapping at Anorra whose eyes got all wide like she'd never seen a dog before.

''Stand still,'' Baelfire ordered her, exasperated. ''You're scaring him.''

The young boy grabbed his dirty bowl off the table and set it on the ground. He backed away several feet. The dog came cautiously closer to the dish, little nose twitching rapidly. Baelfire smiled just a bit.

The dog had licked the bowl nearly ''clean'' when Rumplestiltskin arrived home.

''What's this Boy,'' he asked calmly, eyeing the tiny animal.

''A dog,'' Baelfire stated, obviously more intent on the little creature then his father's arrive.

''I see that…'' the older man said. He moved forward swiftly, lifting the dog up by the scruff of the neck.

Baelfire panicked at the sight of the darling dog in his father's rough grasp. ''Don't touch him, Papa!''

Rumplestiltskin eyed his son for several long moments before setting the dog on the ground. Baelfire tried to beckon it over to him but it would only ran in frantic circles around the food bowl on the floor.

''He's still hungry,'' Baelfire said, and without waiting for a response he poured several more spoonful's of food into the bowl.

Rumplestiltskin did not ask where the dog had come from or why it was in the house now. Instead he watched the scene silently, noticing the stiffness in his son's shoulders as he moved. Did Bael expect his father to take action against the dog at any moment? Yes. Yes, and he was prepared to come to the pest's defense.

The fuzzy animal licked at Baelfire's salty fingers until they were sticky, then went for his face. Baelfire screeched happily and rolled over on his side, hardly trying to protect himself from the dog's slobbery onslaught.

The corners of Rumplestiltskin's mouth twitched just a bit. The cursed man took his leave, speaking behind him, ''He's sleeping in _your_ room.''


End file.
